


Sun

by angrybaby



Series: short stories to cure your worries (not really) [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Brainwashing, Forgiveness, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:50:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8091844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrybaby/pseuds/angrybaby
Summary: He remembers only fragments. Slowly, he is pieced together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is a quick thing i wrote instead of studying for my calc test tomorrow. i really like this song ok. Song: Sun by Two Door Cinema Club

He remembers muggy city skies. He remembers the metallic sound of an easy laughter. He remembers tall buildings stretching up to infinity. He remembers a soft smile, familiar in ways he can’t address. Through the cold, he reaches out for the smile. He grasps desperately at it. He knows that once it’s gone, he’ll never be able to remember. The soft smile is all he has now. Ice creeps deeper into his head. He is so tired but he cannot close his eyes. 

 

_Ocean blue_  
_What have I done to you?_  
_Cut so deep_  
_Yet growing through and through_

 

He is woken in a different age. The people talk differently, dress differently, and act differently. He is supposed to adapt. His mind is a blank slate. Through the electric pulses through his brain, he sees the soft smile. Through his squeezed shut eyes, he sees nothing but that smile. 

 

_Drawn apart_  
_New York and London_  
_All I see now_  
_Are distant drumlins_

 

Whose is it? He lets his mind wander. If he were to report this, he’d be wiped for sure. His rifle settles easily on his shoulder. His eye is trained on his target, he does not move. Whose is it? Why is it still here? How does he still remember it? He feels uneasy. Whoever’s it might be must be long gone by now. He cannot remember a person who knows who he used to be. He pulls the trigger. The sound of a bullet meeting its target gains approval from his handlers.

 

_The roads I knew_  
_Became a city_  
_And I wonder_  
_Will you wait for me?_

 

Near death. Unstable condition. His shoulder is out of his socket. He feels the metal arm weighing him down. His head is spinning and he sees double. He must get to safety soon. The man with the familiar smile will find him and remind him of pain. The lady with the red hair will taze him. He needs safety. His mind races a hundred times a second. He’s never seen the man before. How does he know him? How can he know him? “Everyone you know is dead. No one is coming back for you.” Pierce’s words echo through his head. He needs no reminder that he is alone and that he will always be alone. His top priority is to find a shelter away from all this confusion. In a sick, twisted way, he liked it better when his brain wasn’t so full of noise.

 

_Although_  
_I'm far away_  
_I know I'll stay, I know I'll stay_  
_Right there with you_

 

It’s been two years since he last saw that familiar smile. He’s been trying to make himself better. If there’s one thing he learned from all the brainwashing and training, it was how to adapt. He picked up how to use new technology and the internet pretty easily. He caught up with current events and ideas. He debriefed himself. 

When Pierce didn’t turn up at his door and when his handlers didn’t go out to find him, he knew HYDRA had fallen. They were efficient when it came to finding him. He’d escaped once but they tracked him down in a matter of hours. He felt safe at last, although it was a cautious type of safe. He moves across continents until he finds a place off the grid. He kept his knife collection on him at all times. He told himself it was for safety precautions only. He did not admit to himself that he looked badass while strapping them on, one by one. Besides, nobody would ever suspect he had anything underneath his relatively thin jacket. He conceals everything.

 

_Though_  
_It might be too late_  
_What would you say?_  
_What would you see?_  
_What would you do?_

 

He wakes up on Monday with a clear head. It’s been awhile since he’s ever had one of those. He checks every corner of his tiny apartment to make sure it’s secure. He peeks between the floorboards to see his safety pack sitting peacefully. Smiling, he tugs his cap on and quietly slips out the door.

 

_I built a hive_  
_Became one with the bees_  
_But we fell like rain_  
_Got lost into the sea_

 

His cover has been breached. He’s been too hasty in his assumptions. He’s been clumsy. How could he do that? A beard, a hat, two jackets, and longer hair usually sufficed for a cover, but apparently it hadn’t been enough. The man at the stand watches him with terrified eyes. God, he hasn’t been looked like that in years. As he approaches, the man flees. Something is terribly wrong. He snatches the paper the man had been studying. A quick breath, a shiver of disbelief, and he disappears again into the crowd.

 

_If I don't know_  
_The wind will carry me_  
_So just hold tight_

 

There’s a person in his room. He can hear it before he even sees his unlocked door. The slight creak of the floorboard and soft ruffle of papers give the culprit away. Tense with fear, he creeps silently through the door left slightly ajar. Inside, a man whose proportions are alarming to him stands, his back is turned and his head bowed. He’s looking at my stuff, He realizes. He stands there, examining the man. The man is dressed in full combat gear, his shoulders are tensed and he is favoring his left leg. He can tell that the man is here on a mission. The man senses him and whips around, the journal left forgotten in his hand. 

“Bucky,” he says, his eyes cold. His voice is forced and raspy.

“Is that who I am?” he asks. Bucky. A name. He had gone so long without one. The man’s facade of toughness falls immediately. The soft eyes are back but the smile is not.

“Do you remember me?” the man questions.

“I’ve read about you,” Bucky says. The man’s face twitches.

“You know me,” he says. 

“I..”

“You know me,”

“I don’t-can’t...?”

“Why’d you pull me out of the river?”

“I don’t know…”

“You do.”

“I can’t remember,”

“You can remember,”

“Then help me to,” he pleads. A window breaks. A gun fires. The man runs at him and Bucky punches the floor to get his backpack. 

 

_Though_  
_I'm far away_  
_I know I'll stay, I know I'll stay_  
_Right there with you_

 

Bucky sleeps again. But this time, he knows who he is. He knows the man with the soft smile and familiar eyes. He remembers. He remembers and he is at peace.

 

_And though_  
_It might be too late_  
_What would you say?_  
_What would you see?_  
_What would you do?_

 

James Buchanan Barnes wakes up in a Wakandan medical facility a year after he is put under the ice. His head is clear at last. He thinks for himself. He no longer wears the mask of the assassin he’d been for all the years prior. He is restored. He loves. He laughs. He breathes freely. Steve Rogers remembers the man with the soft smile and bright eyes. He remembers. He cries.

 

_Over and over_  
_Many setting suns_  
_I have run_  
_I have waited for the rain to come_  
_When through that mist_  
_I see the shape of you_  
_And I know, and I know_  
_That I'm in love with you_


End file.
